


Constants

by Smokeandblossoms



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Andrea is a scientist, F/F, Fine Structure Constant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28820787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeandblossoms/pseuds/Smokeandblossoms
Summary: Dr. Sachs finds herself featured at Runway for the first time in her career. A certain editor takes notice.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 48
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

“Tell Paul to take care of the photoshoot this afternoon.” Miranda breezed past Nigel, watching as he hurried to match her steps. There was a flutter of movement from the surrounding staff as the chief editor and stylist made their way through the busy hallway. 

"Yes, Miranda."

“And have Emily deal with the Clemens.”

The two had just stepped towards the elevators when something caught her attention. A small gathering had assembled near the door, quiet murmurs following their movements as heads craned forward and heels teetered on their toes. “Who is that?” Celebrity appearances were hardly rare at Runway, although most of their more distinguished guests preferred to enter through the back rather than the front entrance. It seemed their newest guest hadn’t taken such precaution.

Nigel glanced down quickly at his notes and hummed. “Dr. Sachs. Some scientist we’re interviewing for November.” 

“We’re featuring scientists now?” 

Nigel offered a grimace. “It seems so.” 

“Well, have someone bring him to his room, then. He’s blocking the entrance.”

“Yes, Miranda.” She watched as a nearby intern was called to do just that. “And I do believe it’s a _she_. Andrea Sachs.” 

“Hm.” There was a brief flare of chagrin that quieted as she peered back into the crowd, beyond the wall of clothes and their blue-tainted shadows. For a second, she thought she had caught a glimpse of the woman in question; a stride forward, a flash of a smile. A blink and it was gone. “I’m meeting Jarvis in a few minutes. I’ll speak with you later.”

“Of course, Miranda.” 

* * *

Like most plans left to their whims, things fell apart almost immediately. 

Irv had warned her once for it. _A good leader should delegate, Miranda. Hold less power to yourself and watch the kingdom run by itself._ It was excellent advice. A useful skill, she’d determined then, but not one she would need.

Which was why, exactly two and a half minutes following her three-o-clock meeting, she received the hurried message from her second assistant. 

“Miranda,” the young woman shifted nervously on her feet. A long pink frock, dotted in- dear God, were those _frogs_ \- swayed around her knees. Blinking incredulously, Miranda nodded to allow her closer. 

“What is it?” 

“Andy- I mean, Dr. Sachs wanted to speak with you. She says that there hasn’t been anyone to interview her. She’s waiting for someone to meet her.” 

“I see.” And it seemed that someone wouldn’t be coming in to work tomorrow. Pity; more paperwork. “I’m to assume Dr. Sachs told you this herself.” She took note of the pinken face, the silent remnants of laughter clinging to her assistant’s voice. The girl hadn’t appeared this light-hearted since the first time she’d walked in for an interview, hard as it was to believe, and had certainly never pranced around so excitedly in her office. 

A shy nod. Her displeasure grew. 

“Well,” Perhaps Irv wasn’t entirely obtuse. “If my schedule is free, do tell Dr. Sachs to come in. I don’t know why I bother with you all, really.”

Her assistant startled in response. “Are you- are you sure? I can ask Nigel to-” 

The girl was gaining confidence, Miranda noticed again with some small measure of satisfaction. She’d been a trembling little thing once, careful to stay within Emily’s shadow. This new growth wasn’t entirely unpleasant to see. Still, she kept her gaze cool as she leveled the girl with a frown. “In my office. Now.” She smiled dryly, a silent warning. “That’s all.” 

The girl squeaked and scurried away. 

* * *

Twenty five. _Tick._ Twenty six...seven-

The editor swung a leg over the other, idle fingers pressing indents into the new leather. Above her head, the conditioned whirred loudly in complaint. 

It was taking much longer than expected for Dr. Sachs to arrive. Enough for Miranda to get impatient, tapping a finger against her desk as she watched the hands of the clock tread slowly. Another minute passed. Her legs uncrossed. Crossed again. 

Weren’t scientists meant to be punctual? Meticulous? 

And then she heard it. A soft rumbling of noise from outside her room- the same hallway that would otherwise operate in complete silence if only in fear of her displeasure. On most days, one could hear a pin drop from here all the way from the elevator. Not today. The steady wave of voices reached her ears before anyone could enter, loud and shameless enough to set her teeth on edge.

Her second assistance walked in first. Dragging behind- Miranda blinked- a young woman who could have been no older than Emily herself. Slender, wearing a pale, cornflower blue suit fitted perfectly to her figure. Her eyes flashed down to their joined hands for a brief moment before she stood, a saccharine smile already in place to greet the woman. 

Late or not, she would recognize respect where it was due. 

“Andrea Sachs?”

Miranda watched as the scientist spoke kindly to the remaining two women, offering what appeared to be a wink in response to more giggles before turning her attention back forward. 

She had a young-looking face, the editor took note, her smile sharp but polite. A pair of sunglasses rested atop of head, having somehow found purchase in her hair even amidst all that nodding and smiling. 

“Dr. Sachs please. Or you can call me Andy-” From where she was standing, Miranda could spot faint marks of discoloration marring the skin around the rim of her cheekbones, her temples, and then very lightly, just above her brow.

“Dr. Sachs then.” 

The hand dropped from hers. A head tilted some degrees to the side. “Of course.” 

There was an air of attentiveness to the scientist, Miranda had noticed immediately from this small interaction. An almost careful precision, as if a knight moving nimbly across a chess board. Each step echoed with soft cadence. Hands were clasped together- in nerves, perhaps, if not for the ease of expression otherwise. 

A dark pair of eyes surveyed the room before the woman sat, gaze lingering across the shelves, the pair of assistants standing nearby, and then finally, to her. Red lips ticked upwards. 

“Please sit down.” 

Miranda leaned slightly forward to mirror her guest. A short glare across the room brought over her first assistant, a thick, leather folder held in her arms. She took it, ignoring its weight to afford a fleeting glance over its contents. 

_Dr. Andrea Elizabeth Sachs._

_\- Director of Estington Laboratory, Princeton_

And then further down, where a summary of her research awaited: _Quasars_. Something about _Fine Constant_ s. _Macrocosmic dipole moments._

The list read on. The biographical synapse was useless, the following jargon even more so. The feeling of inadequacy was a rare one, especially within her office, yet now it sank between the words, stretching like bright, sticky taffy across the page and onto her fingers until she shut the folder close. 

Fine. She would have to play this by ear. 

“So, Dr. Sachs, tell me more about yourself.” It was, all things considered, a safe first question- as popular a preface to any interview as any. And quite possibly the easiest way to offend a person. 

Instead of the anger she’d been expecting, she watched the woman shrug, smiling easily under all the stares leveled at her. “What would you like to know, exactly?” 

“Anything you’d like to share.”

“I wasn’t aware you’d be interviewing me yourself,” the scientist gestured to herself, “I wouldn’t have expected it of Miranda Priestly.”

It was a bold statement. Emily bristled lightly at her side as Miranda held up a hand to halt her reaction, pursing her lips as she regarded the woman sitting before her. A pair of eyes followed her movements sweetly. 

“Let’s start with why you’re here for this interview, then? I would assume that a person of your...” her lip curled, “... _caliber_ would hardly need to seek an audience in fashion.” That was all inference, of course; surely, if Dr. Sachs was to be featured at Runway, she would have to be successful to a certain degree. A Pulitzer, perhaps, or whatever else those in her industry coveted. 

The interviewee didn’t miss a beat. “For the same reason you’ve asked the question.” She sighed and her expression twisted, coiling carefully in one of reproach. “I accepted your interview because I don’t believe that fashion and science must be seen as divided interests. Especially for women. And surely, given that you’ve invited me here today, you’ve recognized that as well.” 

Miranda offered her a raised eyebrow, a silent request to go on. 

“The information isn’t anything new, really. Throughout any period of great artistic progress, we see a similar one in the scientific community. Take- oh, I don’t know- the Renaissance, for example. Intellect and pursuit of creativity have just as much a place in any field of interest. Any current bifurcation, I think it’s clear, has been imposed by its respective industries.” 

An even braver claim. A part of Miranda reared indignantly at the insinuation. Here was a lamb in a lion’s cave, pointing fingers that could be removed much too easily. 

So the editor returned her question. “And you’re suggesting that academia is innocent in this exchange? That its institutions have done little to preserve outdated quotas?” 

“Not at all,” Dr. Sachs replied. Her eyes had sharpened during their most recent exchange, glittering proudly even as her face hardened and she sat up. The woman was taller than what she’d initially appeared. As she rose slightly, the curve of her neck cast its shadow on the headrest. “I will, however, say that the recent strides in our institutions have reason to believe in greater change. I cannot say that same for others.” 

Miranda wouldn’t fall for her own trap. Instead, she changed directions. “Academia is different from business, Dr. Sachs.” 

“I understand.” Doubtful. “There is a matter of integrity in the base of education that companies do not owe to its customers.” The next words were gentler, almost passive. “I’m not suggesting that Runway follows in their path, Ms. Priestly.” She hadn’t indicated otherwise, either. “But I believe that your work and intuition can inspire a greater change.” 

“And how would you suggest we bridge that distance? A joint initiation? Some collateral girl-scouts program?” 

“Not exactly.” Andrea seemed to find humor in her statement, the tense defensiveness lowering with her tone. “In a perfect world, I’d think that progress could be achieved without personal profit, but to entertain the world we live in, I would suggest a means of sharing a common audience. Not completely, of course, but a small overlap if possible. A common market- a stall, rather.” 

Miranda remained unconvinced. “Which might only propagate corruption in the eyes of the media. Two main shareholders dominating the public sector.” Not to mention the difficulty of following through such a grand declaration. 

“As if they don’t already.” 

Touché. And again, not completely wrong. “But expecting either to stay within their spaces peacefully without occupying the other is fool’s thought.” Laughable, rather. “I’m not inclined to stop you, Dr. Sachs. But I’ve been a part of this industry for a long time, and long enough to learn that people will fight progress as much as they advocate for it.” 

Dr. Sachs murmured quietly. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

“Please do.” They sat together for a minute in silence. In a way, Miranda thought wryly to herself, it was the hatred for the other that spurred the business between the two industries. Intolerance and power were greater investors of business than virtue could ever be. She wouldn’t stand by and watch this woman defend her precious scientific institute and flash her university badge when it was just as corrupt- no, more so- than fashion or art could even hope to be. 

She didn’t say any of this, of course. Instead, she watched as the glasses drained between the two of them, a ripple of light dancing unsteadily across the walls as the sun hit the perfect angle through the windows. The woman across from her appeared a bit deflated from her words, though her composure had remained good-naturedly throughout the conversation. 

“I didn’t mean to offend your efforts, Andrea.” Miranda started, softer. “It’s for a noble cause, I can see, enough so that I wish you success in your endeavors. And if you should see to it that your plans work, then I agree that the benefits outweigh the risks. Ideally.” 

“Ideally.” That damn smile again. A part of Miranda, however unwilling, relaxed at the small gesture. 

She listened as Dr. Sachs went on to explain the extensive efforts of her campaign. There were too many for her to make a list of, several dozens of scholarships and internship opportunities stretching from one end of the country to the other, aimed to guide children from as early an age as kindergarten. 

“Children are no less affected by pigeon-holing.” Andrea explained when asked. “They believe in having to choose between appearance and intellect, between perceived shallowness and artificiality.” There was no great contempt in the woman’s words, only stern criticism. “There’s this idea that those who find an interest in science and math must contribute conversely to society. That a scientist must care little for social proclivities.” Miranda swallowed at the low timber of her voice as she spoke. “Of course, the opposite applies too.” 

“Which is?” 

“That women in the fashion and beauty industries lack the intelligence to pursue careers in science. Or a general passion in such.” 

The editor studied the scientist as she finished her sentence. Her hands were woven defensively over her lap, legs having ceased moving and instead planted firmly to the ground. “Would you say you’ve faced such presumptions made in your career, Andrea?” 

The woman made no motion to protest the use of her name. Instead, she looked up in amusement. “Of course I have. Nearly every woman has, irrespective of their career. You have too, I’m sure.” 

“You make a lot of assumptions.” 

“Inferences, Ms. Priestly,” a smirk. “I’m a scientist. Making inferences is what we do.’

“And you’re not entirely wrong.” She offered Dr. Sachs a bottle of water when the woman cleared her throat, turning away to readjust her blouse as she spoke. “Though these stereotypes have taken decades, centuries, to form. I hardly believe any two women in a room, regardless of their titles, can dismantle them so easily.” 

“Oh, I never said it would be easy.” A hand grasped near her elbow as she found herself at level with shining eyes, warmth radiating between their skin. Distantly, she recognized the cool metal of a watch pressing against the crease of her arm. “But it would be worth it. If we were to make even a small step of progress in the right direction.” 

Her hand fell away as she leaned back.

Miranda released the breath she’d been holding. 

Andrea Sachs was an attractive woman, the editor had already taken to notice. She wouldn’t have been invited to collaborate with Runway otherwise, though the thought fell short as she glanced back at the young woman. No, Miranda corrected herself. Even if appearance was to be overlooked, there was something intriguing about her guest. Something that could not be left to appearance alone; a lightness, it seemed, which spread to those nearby.

Her employees had caught a glimpse of it as soon as the scientist had entered the building. Vaguely, Miranda recounted the crowd from the morning, the subtle wish in their urge to spare a look at the woman, to move closer to a stranger’s space in a way few celebrities- even those holding great prestige, ever manage in its entirety. Aisha had been obviously affected. Not even Emily had been spared, having spared the girl a smile or two while in her presence. Unbelievable. 

No matter. She readjusted her attention even as her arm tingled. “I believe Paul is ready with your photoshoot now. We’ll wrap up the interview there, if you don’t mind.”

The woman rose to her feet with a spring. “Not at all!” Her assistants were called back to the room to lead the young woman around the desk and outside her room. The door shut behind them. 

Miranda sank back into her seat.

 _What in the world had happened?_ A part of her itched to follow the young women to the photoshoot. She hadn’t directly overseen a project in years, now that the idea came to mind. Any other day, she would have taken the opportunity of a free schedule to go home early and spend time with the girls. 

She checked the clock. Five thirty. 

A pleasant fuzziness had now enveloped the office as she sat, like strings of high tension having been cut abruptly, now left to their own, static vibrations to fill the emptiness. The minutes dragged their feet with every petulant stride as she sat, dumbfounded. Had it been so long since she’d enjoyed another person’s company? 

There were a few emails in her inbox left to respond to. None of them were of any importance- another call for a donation, an expired letter from her lawyer, five dozen applications for a job opening which did not exist. Still, even if just to clear her mind, she sat typing away. 

Nearly an hour had passed when a knock arrived at the door. She looked up.

It was Nigel. “Yes?” 

The man lingered nervously off to the side. “It’s the scientist. Paul wants to start the shoot, but uh, there’s a conflict of interest. She’s asking for you.”

Miranda had risen out of her seat before she could realize. A glimmer of warmth rose to her face. “For me?” And then, dismissively, “I would assume you could lend a hand just as well as I.”

“She asked for you particularly. Serena’s with them at the moment-” 

Serena Markins. The make-up artist. The young, modelesque make-up artist. A short surge of something close to unease settled in her stomach at the idea of the woman standing so close to Dr. Sachs- lured, no doubt, by her compelling friendliness. Hands clenched at her sides, she stalked past the man who briskly followed her down to the elevators. 

Metal doors slid close with the push of a button. A foot tapped determinedly against the floor as they descended. 

Nigel followed her movements curiously. “You seem awfully invested in the woman. For a scientist.” 

_For a scientist._ His words had never before appeared so mocking, and for a brief moment, Miranda felt rightfully offended on Dr. Sach’s behalf. “Well Nigel,” she turned to face him, “perhaps you would do well to afford her some respect. There’s more to this world, yes?” She walked out of the elevator and into the studio, leaving behind the stunned stylist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since winter semesters have started again, I've decided to write on some of the things I'm learning about at the moment. 
> 
> The next chapter will be a bit science-heavy, so I apologize if it's uninteresting. I tried to simplify the main concepts, and while I took some creative liberty near the end, tried to portray the ideas somewhat realistically. ( ex: The idea and value of the Fine Structure constant, its calculation and individual components, methods of using quasars to measure its value across space, etc. ). Hope you find it enjoyable!! 
> 
> As always, I love reading through your comments :)


	2. Chapter 2

In hindsight, Andrea should have called for Miranda earlier. 

“Absolutely not.” She stormed over to where the photographer and his subject were standing, throwing aside a bouquet of fake roses into the trash. “No. Not this one.” A pause. “Yes- maybe. Leave that be for now.” 

The lights were entirely too bright inside the studio, a glacial blue in colour which left everything it touched cold and sterile. It was wrong. All wrong; the photoshoot shouldn’t have even been taken indoors in the first place. 

Paul was rather adamant in his reasoning. “She’s a scientist,” he argued. Miranda picked up a microscope that had been left with the accessories, fighting to keep her temper under control when she spied a periodic table fastened to the wall. “I don't know what else you want me to do.” 

“You might as well drop in a green screen and transport our viewers to the scholastic book fair.” She could hear Andrea chuckling lightly behind her as she continued. “I don’t pay you to play by stereotypes, you should know that. And Dr. Sachs, if I’m correct, is an astrologist, not a chemist.”

Paul stared at her in confusion. “So you want to do it outside?” 

Miranda caught herself before she could roll her eyes. She’d watched her daughters do it one too often, the urge having traversed past her restraint in a sudden lack of decorum. “If your efforts provide better results, then certainly.” It was hardly six in the afternoon, leaving an hour before the sun would set. Plenty of time, she watched the worried photographer assure an amused scientist, leaving the team to collect the cameras and set equipment, ushering everyone outside. 

* * *

They wouldn’t have to leave the building- to save time, of course. Certainly not as an excuse for Miranda to join in their traipsing around. No, they would stay within Runway for mere comfort and efficiency, climbing fifty stories up to the building’s rooftop. 

The open rooftop at Runway was something of a hidden gem. When the structure had first been built, the designers had left it with a closed roof, something Miranda had renovated two years ago into a flat, open observatory. A whole floor of staff could fit here, a thousand feet above the ground, but she’d never thought to bring anyone up here. Not even Nigel, and certainly not any model or person of professional invitation. 

Hoping to catch the last light of dusk, the staff moved quickly around with their equipment, working to string the lights over the metal scaffolding, setting up a chair and cameras around in a semicircle as if to replicate a haphazard children’s campfire. 

Then their model stepped carefully into the scene. 

In the time the editor and photographer had held their earlier conversation, Serena had finished with her work. She had done well despite Miranda’s reservations, having left the makeup light enough to expose the natural breadth of her features, the pleasant bow of her lips and the few, bright freckles dusted around the woman’s nose and cheeks. In the muted light, the scientist appeared soft, alarmingly delightful. 

Her hair had been left in its natural waves, though some kind of product had been used to keep the strands in perfect place. Miranda felt a sudden urge to run her fingers through the locks. Ridiculous. 

Thankfully, Paul had the good sense of mind to keep Andrea’s current attire. There was a slight difference between inadequacy and untapped potential; one simply had to note the difference. 

That didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun, watching him defend his choice. “It has a certain charm to it, I think. It suits her well.” 

“It _is_ a suit, after all.” Miranda said dryly as his face pinched in confusion. The people around them stared at their boss as she shook her head in amusement. “Go on then.” 

“Prada for footwear. The blue heels, I should think. Or red.” 

“Red,” Miranda decided absentmindedly. Her next words left her mouth quietly. “It matches her lips.” 

Paul looked surprised, then nodded. “Yes it does. You’re right, Miranda.” 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” The glare she offered him evaporated quickly as she left him for Andrea. The woman had seemed to be watching her from afar, cheeks darkening under the editor’s attention. Oh, she was a dear thing to look at, wasn’t she? 

“How’s the spotlight treating you?” 

“Oh, you know,” the woman threw her a playful smile. “All in a day’s work, am I right?” 

She cleared her throat. “Yes. And I’ll apologize for how long this is taking. I’m sure you expected to be done by the afternoon.” 

“Don’t worry about it!” A hand waved her words away. Nails painted blue to match her suit. “I’ve had calibrations that last longer, and I’ve cleared my day for this, honestly.” 

The words shouldn’t have pleased Miranda as much as they did. She patted the woman’s shoulder and stepped back. 

Everything was set up. Paul gestured for something, the camera clicking away. 

Miranda watched and frowned.

“Stop.” 

Something was still amiss. A lack of energy, somehow. The stillness of the composition and stark, crisp lines of the suit had managed to obscure the effortless charm of the woman standing just beyond the lens. Some secret intrigue locked away from where she had sat minutes before chatting happily with the team. 

How curious. Frustrating, but curious. 

Dr. Sachs was a powerful woman, Miranda conceded with some measure of fondness. The heated exchange from during her interview came to mind. The open remarks, the bold claims and easy charm that made for a person of great passion. Of exuberance, certainly, and it would not do well to sell her image off as some demure, captive thing of beauty like she’d done before to so many faces. 

No, the woman sitting before her was exceptional. The world would see to it soon enough. It would be a small compensation for Miranda’s otherwise unwillingness in collaborating with Andrea’s far-fetched plan of economic mistreaty. This, she could help with. This, she would do. 

“Now Andrea, how would you describe your work?” She asked, watching from a near distance as the younger women adjusted the new heels. Miranda mentally patted herself on the back for her choice. “As easily visualized, perhaps? Or abstract?” 

Dr. Sachs stumbled and quickly righted herself. “Um...yes. Sorry, yes. I work mostly with quantum physics, so a bit more abstract than your more conventional sciences.” 

“Wonderful.” And it was. The more she spoke, the more the idea in her head grew, as did a subtle excitement. “I would speak for most people, and myself included, that when we think of science, we think of something very structured. Complicated, perhaps, but rigid and concrete in a way that most art isn’t. It’s a false notion, of course, but that’s what drives people, especially young children, away from it.” 

“You might be right, yes.” 

“So we’ll bridge that difference. Use less rigid lines in the composition. Paul- the suit is fine but her posture has to be different. Andrea, bend your knee...yes, like that. Shoulders back and tilt your head- no, the other direction. Acceptable.” 

“Like this?” It did look a bit odd from where the camera was currently situated. 

“The picture will be taken from where I’m standing, so the angle will be different. I want the aperture to be larger. Use a longer exposure.” 

“Close range?” He offered a glance through the lens. 

“A little further back, I would think.” That would help capture the motion in the frame. Physics was all about motion, was it not? “We can retouch the rest. And Andrea, I’d like your contribution in this matter. What comes to your mind when you think of space? Aesthetically, I mean?” 

“Me?” 

“Unless you know of another Andrea here.” 

She sputtered. “I- planets, I suppose. Light refraction. Most of it is quite colourful, really. Space itself is dark but everything else-”

“More contrast, then.” Her mind was running a mile a minute as her hand skimmed lightly over broad shoulders, smoothing out any wayward crinkles from the fabric of the suit. It had been a while since she’d been challenged in this manner. It was thrilling to be back here on set, in the line of action that her own office had so easily obscured. She’d missed this, hardly noticing the smile having spread across her face. 

“And the background?” 

Would it do to leave it blank? A plain backdrop, maybe. Or- there had been some photographs released by NASA recently, hadn’t there? Pictures of planets in their natural visages; Jupiter- or was it Saturn? Nevertheless, the picture appeared in her mind after a moment of thought, a shimmering sea of colours forming whirls of gold and blue like paint dipped lazily into water. Striking enough to have caught her attention. It had been like looking at a piece of art, like- “Van Gogh.”

“Van Gogh?” Nigel appeared out of nowhere. He offered a nod of approval. “That’ll work.” It was a clever idea, but safe. Even the more _upstanding_ members of either community could stomach Van Gogh with minimal complaints. 

“Should we change the suit then? A dress? The Laurent-” 

“No.” The suit would stay. She’d grown quite fond of it. 

“The shoes?”

“No.” 

Paul’s assistant approached the editor carefully. “How about a tie?”

“This isn’t poker, Mia.” Miranda dismissed. “There won’t be any compromises on my decisions.” 

“No. A tie.” The fabric was held before her face. “From the Kuo collection.” 

Miranda observed it closely. The name sounded somewhat familiar; a new designer, if she was correct. One they had yet to feature at Runway. Appropriate colours, proper length. The design wasn’t overly similar to any particular Van Gogh painting, but the pattern and style- a deluge of bright swirls and cascading waves- would hold recognizable to anyone with any sort of interest in the western arts. 

“Acceptable.” The girl nodded breathlessly then disappeared at the flick of her wrist.

Paul stepped forward. “Miranda, you’re sure about all this?” 

“When am I not? And frankly, if I wanted just a pretty picture with a pretty face, I wouldn’t have invited Dr. Sachs over- no offense, Andrea.” 

“Oh! None taken.”

“Now, I want her leaning forward. The tie needs to grab their attention.” She’d have the editors add in the photograph from NASA in the background- the photographs were public domain, after all. The image would have to be blended in with the foreground but distinct enough to bring attention to the similarities between Van Gogh’s art and the celestial body- between art to science. And what better way to bridge the fields than through fashion? 

It would be a more experimental approach for a photoshoot from their normal process, though appropriate for working with a scientist. Andrea seemed delighted by all of it, fortunately.

And as it turned out, the woman was something of a natural model, taking kindly to any advice thrown her way, allowing her hair to be ruffled, re-styled, timid hands fixing her posture as the camera moved orbits around the room. 

Miranda watched keenly from the back of the studio as the rest of the photoshoot came to an end. Engrossed, so much so that she hardly noticed when the make up artist slid close to where she was standing. 

“Miranda?” She hummed noncommittedly. Serena flashed her a wary look. “This isn’t a portrait session, is it? I think...well, I just think we might be focusing too much on the subject instead of the clothes.” 

A ridiculous thought. Andrea’s eyes looked warmer under the spotlight. She tore her eyes away. “The subject is part of the photo, are they not?” 

“Well yes, but-”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.” 

“It’s just that-” 

Before she could fire the insolent girl, Andrea reappeared from the dressing room, having shed the tie and her heels for the oxfords she’d worn initially. Her hair remained stiff from the gel. The bright lipstick too, stayed as it was. 

“Well that was so fun!” It was too late in the day, Miranda thought to herself, for a person to be so cheerful. Perhaps Emily had switched her coffee for something else earlier; there was only so much energy one could derive naturally. 

But still, she waited, smiling impatiently, as the scientist waved goodbye to the staff, taking time to sign a few more papers and take pictures before following Miranda back up her elevators and to her office. 

The room was quiet when they entered, dark. The computer screen had turned dark in her absence. A pale, yellow light shone from a single lamp in the corner. Their work was all but done now, yet for some reason, the thought of parting ways with the scientist was distasteful.

So Miranda latched on to the first thing she could think of, rounding the table to near the woman to meet her eyes. “You mentioned that you’d cleared your schedule for the day.” A nod, and the heaviness in her chest loosened. “Then I’d like to continue the interview. We hadn’t gotten to talk about your research earlier.” 

And oh- Dr. Sach’s eyes only brightened further at that. “Of course!” She sat down on the sofa and leaned forward, legs swinging in a brief moment of delight. “Where should I start?” 

Miranda slipped on her glasses, reopening the folder she’d left lying on the desk. She read through the first line, looking up wryly. 

“How about... the fine structure constant?” 

* * *

Andrea Sachs, as it turned out, could make even the most difficult concepts comprehensible. 

“So you mean to say that the constant doesn’t have units? But aren’t...well, I can’t think of a constant without units. And wouldn’t it be universal anyways?” 

Miranda felt as if she had traveled back in time. Twenty- maybe more- years ago from when she was a young school girl, asking questions on something she had very little idea about. She had played the role of a mentor many times in the past few decades, but had spent upon very rare occasion, the opportunity to be the student. 

When had she stopped learning? It was a rather depressing thought to entertain. 

Andrea, however, was nothing but an encouraging teacher. “Not exactly. Take light for example,” she turned to point at the lamp. “Most of us know it in measures of meters per second squared. Approximately three point zero times ten to the power of eight.” 

She nodded, burrowing deeper into her chair. “Yes.” 

“And if you were to measure this in feet per minute, or inches per hour, or any other unit of measurement which has not been discovered yet, you’d get different values, different numbers. Does that make sense?” Miranda told her that it did. “Good. Now, in the case of values like the fine structure constant, it doesn’t matter how we measure it. The fine structure constant is made up of the speed of light, the Planck's Constant, as well as the charge of an electromagnetic particle. We could measure all this using the metric or SI system, but we’d end up with the exact same value.” 

A value of approximately .0073, she was told. 

“Isn’t that fascinating?” Passion, it seemed, had only further accentuated Andrea’s beauty. Eyes shining almost golden from the table lamp, smile growing effortlessly, Miranda found herself suddenly inclined to call for the photographer once more. 

Instead, she wracked her mind to find a suitable question. “And why would it matter if the constant is unitless?” 

“That’s an excellent question!” Miranda fought the urge to look away at the praise. “To put it simply, we can think of constants such as gravity and light to be calculated and brought to existence by human creations- math, particularly. They’ve only existed in value once they’ve been measured. For constants such as alpha, however, we can think of them as being derived directly from the natural world itself.” 

‘Fascinating,” she echoed. “Am I to assume that your work has changed this idea in some manner?” 

Brown eyes twinkled in response. “And I’m to assume you haven’t read my work yet? Or my books?” 

“I’m a busy woman.” was all she offered. 

“So I’ve heard.” Dr. Sachs shrugged, unoffended. “So electromagnetism is one of the four fundamental forces in the physical world. The fine structure constant, or alpha, offers a measurement of this force acting within an atom, determining the amount of energy needed for electron particles to configurate to form all the matter we see and interact with. In the past many decades, we realized that this constant stays, well, constant- for lack of better word- across our entire solar system and perhaps, all of space.” 

“But not any more.” 

“No,” Andrea agreed. “My team and I found, with the adjusting of current technology, an ability to generate more accurate readings of alpha values across a change in spatial direction. On a very large scale, of course.” 

A scale as large as hundreds of thousands of times greater than the Milky Way, Andrea explained. Miranda shifted as she listened, leaning back to sit more comfortably. “Which showed significant changes in the constant, by more than fourteen percent of the original value.”

“And what would this mean?” She paused as Emily re-entered the room, setting down a cup of coffee for the both of them before leaving. “If the constant changes, I’m assuming the implications are large enough-” 

“To win a Nobel Prize, it would seem.” Miranda’s throat dried as she watched the woman laugh lightly. Her eyes had adjusted a little more to the dark by now- they’d left the light turned off for sake of convenience- and there was precious little visibility to be found in this new, strangely intimate setting. “But to answer your question, yes. Since the fine structure constant determines the interatomic forces of practically all matter, we can see this as the amount of energy needed for an electron to orbit a nucleus at a certain energy level. All the different elements we know, from carbon to oxygen, are composed of these different electron configurations.” 

“So in a far distance, it would be harder for these elements to form?” 

“Or they might not form at all. If the constant was just a little bigger, say around .0068, then carbon wouldn’t form. Carbon, which is one of the most prominent elements of our universe and necessary for life on Earth. We’re made up of almost nineteen percent carbon, after all.” 

“So life might be nonexistent in those places.” It was a sobering thought, no matter how distant. While no scientist herself, Miranda had an appreciation for the scale of the universe. To suggest that life may not survive past the reaches of their own galaxy- well, that was food for thought. 

“Or have evolved in a completely different manner than anything we would define or recognize as life. Stellar formations may never form in such spaces, much less habitable atmospheres.” 

“Interesting.” The coffee scorched her throat as she swallowed quickly. 

“And there are even larger implications.” Andrea’s face was masked almost entirely in shadows, though the rim of her sunglasses shone in the bleak light, reflecting from its place returned to above her head. She turns to look at the editor, a bit nervous. “I mean, I could talk about this forever. I wouldn’t wish to impede on your schedule.” 

Miranda fixed her with a smile. “Do tell.” 

“Well,” Andrea began, “our approach to searching for life across the universe changes. And our understanding of why we exist in this part of the world becomes a less subjective question.” 

“I don’t get it.” Miranda started at the sound of a new voice. Her second assistant was leaning against the doorway, her small figure nearly swallowed in the darkness, a barely-visible frown formed across her face before shrinking back into fear. “I- I’m sorry Mrs- Miranda. I was just passing by with Nigel’s reports and-” 

“Oh, it’s fine, Aisha!” Dr. Sachs waved her in cheerfully. “The more the better, wouldn’t you agree, Miranda?” 

She turned back to look at the editor earnestly. Aisha- goodness, she’d nearly forgotten her name- followed suit. 

“Well alright.” She sighed. Her hands twitched as she watched her assistant drag a seat right next to the scientist, the latter of whom seemed all the more pleased, before returning her attention eagerly back to the conversation. 

“Go on, Andy.” A cleared throat. “Dr. Sachs, I- I mean.” 

“Oh, she’s fine, Miranda.” A hand reached over to lay above hers. It was warm, the contact. “But anyways, where was I?” 

Miranda blinked quickly, opening her mouth to reply. “You were saying something of larger implications.” 

The hand lingered for a moment longer before letting go. “Right! Well, imagine that all of life on earth is a certain type of bacteria. Say, for example, an E.coli strain.” A repulsive comparison, but she agreed. Aisha listened along, all but entranced. 

“Well, now think of a petri dish,” Andrea said, gesticulating as she spoke. “Now think of a certain environment that E.coli needs to grow in, for example, water moisture. So we separate the petri dish into thirds, and layer one part with water moisture, another part with an acid solution, and the last with nothing. What would you expect to happen?” 

“I would-” Miranda started, then cast her eyes where Aisha was wriggling in place. “Go ahead, dear.” 

It was the first time she’d called the girl that. She blinked at herself in silent disbelief. Andrea looked on with an odd expression. Warmly, almost. 

“The bacteria will grow in only one part.” Aisha, on the other hand, had no such reservations. The girl had joined Runway as an intern four years ago, Miranda knew. Never having secured a higher-level education, her intelligence and willingness to obey orders had won her a successful career at Runway. Now, however, she wondered if the girl’s interests laid elsewhere, a thought that was growing by the minute. 

“Perfect. And in the section with the acid, we might expect another kind of bacteria to grow, one we wouldn’t recognize nor define as E.coli, yes?” Two nods. “And in our third section, nothing grows.” Yes, that made sense. “So we can think of our universe as operating similarly. Our part of the universe has the specific natural constants set for life as we recognize. So instead of asking why life has evolved in this particular galaxy versus another, it isn’t just a matter of randomized chance, but a product of our distance and physical space in the universe.” 

“And for the other life forms?” 

“Yes, in those spaces, we can do further research to determine the exact elements that might exist there. Like instead of carbon and oxygen, an influx of helium and sodium. Right now, most programs searching for extraterrestrial life or habitable planets search for water, with water being made up of specific elements like oxygen, which may not even exist in some places. So instead, you would diversify your search. Specific combinations of elements or outputs of energy.” 

“That’s so cool!” Aisha jumped in to add. Miranda couldn’t help the fond smile as she watched. “You discovered all this?” 

It was an impressive amount of knowledge to be credited to any individual. She looked on expectedly as Andrea simply laughed and shook her head. 

“First of all, a lot of the data was compiled as a group effort. I simply lead the team at the lab, but a lot of the raw data was analyzed and calibrated by students, even interns as young as yourself. Even the main concepts, like working with quasars and spectrum readings, have all been discovered before me. My team simply found a more accurate method of calibrating the instruments to remove error and provide wider-range detection.” 

“Oh.” Lips twitched in disappointment. 

“But that’s the thing about science,” Andrea was quick to reassure. Miranda watched as she shrugged. “It’s all built from one discovery to the other. I could be completely wrong in everything and a research twenty year down the lane may completely change our understanding of science and space, like Quantum theory to Newtonian physics. It’s the diversification of possible approaches to a problem that allows for greater scientific progress.” 

“And a Nobel prize,” Miranda quipped. 

“Yes,” Andrea shook her head and smiled. “That too.” 

Nearly an hour had passed in the time their conversation had come to an end. The sky outside the windows was dark, the sun having long since. The coffee mugs had gone cold and the hallways once again eclipsed by silence. 

Miranda sent her assistant to collect any leftover reports from the editing office, leaving the editor to wish their guest goodbye. 

“I was wondering something,” Andrea mentioned just as they stepped outside of her office. She floundered in place for a moment. “I...well, I was wondering if perhaps, and I don’t mean to overstep, I might take Aisha into my team as an intern.” 

The offer was unexpected, though not quite so surprising the longer Miranda thought about it. “An internship,” she mused. “I believe her financial situation at home is a bit...dire.” She wouldn’t protest outright nor could she demand that Andrea change her offer, but she wouldn’t admit to anything so quickly. 

“I’d pay her, of course. Most of my student interns are paid by the hour, much above the minimum wage, I’ll assure you.” 

“And she hasn’t gotten the chance to go college, but she’s a bright girl. Really. I won’t have for your team belittling her for something she has had little say in.” 

“She won’t have to worry about that. You have my word.” 

Miranda frowned. Then though a little longer, then some more, and nodded. “Aisha!” Her voice rang through the building. It was the first - no, the second- time she had called her by name.

A courtesy that sent the girl in question running in panic. “Y-yes Miranda?” Large eyes peered up at her, skirt swaying side to side. Goodness, she would miss the girl. 

“It seems Dr. Sachs has something to tell you.” 

Small shoulders relaxed by a margin as she turned to the scientist. “Andy?” 

“Aisha,” Andrea approached slowly. “I noticed that you’ve shown an interest in some of the things we talked about? Perhaps as something you’d like to pursue on your own?” A hesitant nod. “Well, I have an offer to make you. I’d like you to join my team back in Princeton as an intern.” 

“At-” 

“At the lab we’re currently working in.” She remembered Miranda’s earlier words. “The position comes with a salary, and we can discuss more on the numbers later.” Anxious eyes blinked for a long moment before turning hopefully to look at Miranda, who offered a small nod. “You’ll spend a few weeks training in order to work with the equipment, and you’ll have to be enrolled in a few classes,” a wink to Miranda, “some of which I happen to teach.” 

“And you can cover all the expenses? At Princeton? For me?” The words were hardly left to a whisper. 

“Yes.” She turned sideways and offered a teasing smile. “And as Miranda has confirmed twice, I am a Nobel Laureate, after all,” a hint of good humor, just shy of arrogance, entered her voice. Miranda turned away to hide her smile. “It might bring me some pull with the school administration. I would bet on it.” 

“As would I,” the editor added. “Give her an answer, dear. Offers like these don’t come very often.” 

“They don’t.” The scientist’s voice softened further. “So what do you say, kid? Is it a yes?” 

The answer was immediate. It took Aisha all but two seconds to agree. Many more for the ringing in all three of their ears to subside. 

* * *

“You made her night. And life, I suppose.” Miranda turned to look at the woman who was regarding her patiently. She’d walked them both to just outside the building’s entrance. Andrea’s driver had yet to arrive, though a part of the editor selfishly wished he never would. Such company was a rarity, after all. 

“Well, you allowed it. I’m hoping I can keep my promises.” 

Miranda offered her a smile, moving closer to stand by her side. “Well, if Andrea Sachs can’t persuade your department, I know of a certain person who can make sure it happens.” 

“You wouldn’t.” The words were belied by a shoulder nudging hers excitedly. 

“Oh but I would, Dr. Sachs,” She paused and leaned forward, mouth inches away from soft skin. “I do not care for many, I’ll admit, but for those few, I do not go about it lightly.” 

“I will remember that.” Her face brightened after a moment of thought. “Perhaps this can become a program all on its own. You send your assistants over to my lab for a month and I’ll send over mine.” The wicked edge to her smile grew. “I can think of a few you might whip into shape.” 

“And have them wandering around my building in that terrible lab attire?” She mocked a shudder. “They’ll ruin my reputation, no doubt.” 

The other woman made a wounded expression. “What- I thought you liked my attire!”

Miranda found her eyes trailing over the suit, draping over those broad shoulders, her waist, sleeves stopping just above her wrists. “Yours isn’t bad.” Her throat felt dry. “Not bad at all.” 

Andrea seemed to take a sudden breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” She smiled sheepishly at Miranda’s raised eyebrows. “I was so nervous you’d hate it. Or send me out of the building before the interview or something.” 

“Send you out of the building?” Laughter bubbled up her chest. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. You were truly nervous?” 

“Oh, of course. I mean, you’re Miranda Priestly.” Those eyes softened, looking at her with something close to reverence. It was an expression she’d faced many times a week, yet only now truly appreciated. “How could I not be?” 

The scientist reached into her phone before Miranda could say anything, lips downturned for a moment as a message flashed on the screen. “My driver’s outside now.”

Her heart dropped. “Goodnight then.” And afterwards, when she had nothing more to say, “it’s best that I return to my daughters as well.” 

“You should,” Andrea agreed. In the dark, she cut an elegant figure, the few lights from around the building framing her silhouette. “Although, I’d like to meet sometime. You can come over to visit Princeton sometime, if you’d like.” 

“And why would I?” 

“To visit- Aisha, of course. She’ll miss you, I know. And you'll miss her.” The poor woman rambled onwards. “And there’s a really good program for fashion there. And business, of course. Not that you need an excuse to visit Princeton- they’d love to have you there, as-” 

Miranda touched her cheek to stop her. It worked. “Do you always lose your thought so easily?” Her hand lingered. “I much preferred when we were discussing the fine structure constant and dipole nonsense.” 

“You listened!” 

Adorable, the editor thought to herself fondly. The woman was simply adorable. “Well yes, I do have ears.” 

“Physicist, not a doctor, remember?” The women shared a laugh. The silence had only begun settling before Andrea’s eyes widened. “Ok, Steve’s definitely waiting for me now. I’ll call you, if that’s alright?” She’d already begun walking down the stairs at the entrance, down to where a dark Mercedes had parked itself, head twisted back to keep the conversation afloat. 

“Yes. And don’t strain your neck. Go now.”

“Ok!” The voice called out, body no longer visible behind the tinted window. “Goodnight! Tell Aisha I’m excited to work with her!” 

“I will.” Neither Aisha nor Andrea were the only one invested in this new partnership. Miranda scoffed quietly, willing herself to look away as the car drove off into the night. Roy would be here in a minute...

* * *

The next day, things would continue as they always did. Minus a certain assistant, of course. And if Emily arrived the following morning to see half a dozen science books lined along the editor's desk in place of the usual magazines, well, she didn’t dare say anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! If you have anyone questions about the Fine Structure constant, or any corrections to make, please let me know! I'm excited to learn and hopefully, you've taken something from it as well. There's a link below that explains the idea much more clearly:)
> 
> https://www.forbes.com/sites/startswithabang/2019/05/25/ask-ethan-what-is-the-fine-structure-constant-and-why-does-it-matter/?sh=169c05bb4567
> 
> Edit: To the people who've been kind enough to leave a comment, thank you so much!! It really does make me day better. I know that I have a habit of deleting my works soon after I've published them; I will try to leave this up for a bit longer for the few who might care, but encourage the rest to download it. If I've inconvenienced anyone, I do apologize. Hope everyone is doing well and keeping safe!


End file.
